


Soak

by pinefree



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinefree/pseuds/pinefree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Rick and Stan in a bathtub. Fluff mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soak

**Author's Note:**

> Never written for this ship before, let me know what you think!

It isn’t much, but it’s theirs.

A dull symphony of sirens and city noise creeps into the small apartment. It’s drifting over piles of dirty clothes, of ash trays and empty bottles of tequila. Neither can claim to be especially neat, but Rick has the edge here— at least his madness is contained to his area of their shared space. Stan’s possessions (mostly porno mags, cigarette lighters, and the occasional weapon) are strewn out across every available shelf, desk, or drawer. 

In all fairness, it was his home first.

—

“You gonna pass me some of that, or do I gotta beg, Stretch?”

“I’d love to see you try, asshole.” 

The two men sit across from each other in their favorite place in the apartment: the bathtub. It’s a tad grimey, but a generous size, most likely to excuse the fact that there’s no shower. They’ve made it their own, though— every night, they undress, run the water hot, and talk. Talk about their days, pass a bottle or a joint, instigate a sexual encounter that’s enough to drive any young man crazy with lust… 

Rick lets his legs fall open, and sets the bottle in between. “Come ’n get it, then.” He’s vain; he drags his tongue over his teeth suggestively. In truth, Stan is a dangerous combination for him: criminal record, vices to spare, and the body of a boxer. And yet, he’s never been more intrigued.

Stan grins, his fingers reach up to trace his lover’s pale, thin thighs, before yanking him by Rick’s bony hips into his lap. The water sloshes, and some spills out onto the bathroom floor. The symbolically phallic bottle is floating along in the water, forgotten.

Rick’s wiry legs wrap around Stan easily, and the blood rushes downstairs at the roughness of Stan’s touch. Not to be outdone, Rick crushes their mouths together, practically clawing thin fingers through that thick, dark hair. Stan’s mouth is warm and wet and well practiced, and he reminds Rick of this with a sweep of the tongue over his bottom lip. 

Shivering, whether it was from the kiss or the water growing colder, Rick mumbles how they should move to the bed. Stan nods, and soon they’re stumbling a short distance from the tub to the bed, brains swimming in alcohol. This is their routine; whether it’s healthy for either of them is debatable, but it’s one hell of a ride while it lasts. 

Even after being in a bath-gone-cold, Stan’s body is a furnace, ready for Rick to curl up into. They usually sleep naked, even if they’re both too fucked up to have sex. Stan’s enormous bicep curls around Rick’s rail thin frame, and sleep comes all too easily, even with the sounds of the city hanging between them.


End file.
